


bite your feelings out

by chillpills



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillpills/pseuds/chillpills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the summers were sticky-hot and bucky was drunk but it would feel so good, stevie, if he could get his teeth in you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bite your feelings out

**Author's Note:**

> title from "gold" by kiiara

The summers had been so hot then.

“Get off me,” Steve said, pushing a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. It was barely pressure, but Bucky tilted with it anyway, and his mouth fell away from Steve’s shoulder as he fell to the side, the heat and the whiskey making him sluggish. He could feel his shirt sticking to his back when he moved, and he twisted again, restlessly, to feel it again.

Then Steve’s hand came to rest on his head, pushing through his damp hair, pushing his head back to look at Bucky’s eyes. Bucky could see much better than Steve in the dark; Steve could never see very well at all.

“How much did you drink?” Steve asked. “You smell like the whole bar.”

“You smell good,” Bucky replied. He nudged his head up into Steve’s palm.

That got a laugh out of Steve. “I smell just as bad as you, just not as drunk,” he said.

“Hmm.” Bucky twisted his head up, again, nosing along towards Steve’s pulse point, where he smelled the best, like sweat and salt. He pressed a kiss there, and another, with Steve’s pulse flickering on his lips. It was easy to get caught in that. Easy to open his mouth and press his tongue against the tendon in Steve’s wrist, over and over until Steve squirmed; easy to scrape his teeth so, so gently against Steve’s skin.

“Hey,” Steve said, and snatched his hand back to his side. “None of that.”

Bucky’s mouth felt all wet and sticky, but not in the way he wanted when he was hot and drunk and Steve looked like a dream. He slipped his forefinger under the band of Steve’s shirtsleeves. “Just a little?”

“It won’t be just a little,” Steve said, but Bucky put his face up against his chest anyway, and put his mouth on Steve’s collarbone where he was sticky from the day’s heat. Steve probably hadn’t bothered to bathe yet today, and he’d probably done that because – Bucky wasn’t just assuming here, alright, or he was, but he didn’t have a reason not to – because Steve knew Bucky liked that, liked the way the city stuck to his skin. Bucky could set his teeth in here, too, just a little, not enough –

“Buck,” Steve said. His hand laid warningly on the back of Bucky’s neck. He didn’t need to worry. Bucky wouldn’t. Not if Steve told him not to. But it would feel so good, if Steve would let him.

“C’mon,” Bucky said, and it came out muffled against Steve’s sweat-sticky neck. “It’d be so good, Stevie, you’d feel so good doing it.”

“You wanna do it?”

“Wanna do you.”

“You’d feel good doing it,” Steve said. His fingers dipped down into Bucky’s collar, where the heat collected against his neck. “‘Cause you're just hot up for it.”

“Hot up for you, baby doll,” Bucky said, and rolled a bit of skin between his front teeth before he tilted back and looked up at Steve. 

Steve smiled like he didn’t know quite what else to do with Bucky. “You use that one on all the girls?”

“All the girls are too good. They ain’t gonna suck me off if I buy ‘em a beer.” Which he had, the other day – bought Steve a beer, that is.

That made Steve laugh again. He showed his teeth – his perfect, pretty teeth. God, Steve was so pretty. All thin waist and big eyes and smooth skin everywhere. Bucky just wanted to – to eat him up.

“You’re going straight to hell, Barnes,” he said, and ran his hands through Bucky’s hair again.

Bucky smiled. “There’s a lot of things I’m goin’ down there for,” he said. “God, you’re pretty.”

When Steve spoke again his voice dropped low like he was scared of anyone hearing. “You really wanna?” And he lifted his eyebrows, and let the rest trail off.

Bucky perked right up all over. “I wanna,” he said. “God, Stevie, always wanna – do it with you, get you all for myself and feelin’ so good – cause I make it good for you, Stevie baby, I always do – ”

He was babbling. Steve stopped him with two fingers to his lips, and once they were there they slipped through Bucky’s lips, bumped against his teeth. “Not a lot,” he said.

Bucky nodded. Not a lot. He could do that. So long as he didn’t have to move away from Steve any time soon.

“And you ain’t doin’ me when you’re done, either.”

Steve got tired, after. He got tired after a lot of things. But that was okay – Bucky was here, Bucky could take care of him, and Steve didn’t need to worry, cause Bucky was gonna make it so good. Bucky moved again, tried to get a good look at Steve without pulling away from the heat and the smell of him.

Steve’s fingers slipped away from his mouth, and trailed down his jaw. “Take off your shirt. Don’t wanna get it messy.”

Bucky’s fingers fumbled at his tie, and then the buttons, til he could pull it off – Steve helped, pushed it off his shoulders – and then he was in his shirtsleeves, too, matching Steve, only for a hot second before Steve yanked that out of his waistband and tugged it over Bucky’s head. He gave Bucky’s chest an appraising look, then put both his hands on his shoulders and pushed, until Bucky tipped over and sat straight on the couch, and Steve stood up, moved across the room, and pulled off his own undershirt. 

“You gonna make me come all the way over there?” Bucky asked. “You wanna come sit on my lap, baby?”

Steve’s face flushed in the yellow light of the streetlamp through the window. “I’m cooling off. It’s hot in here.”

“It’s hot everywhere.” Bucky said. “Come back over here.”

Steve came over, slow and soft on the floorboards, pinching his fingers together by his thigh. He was giving himself time, dragging it out, and Bucky thought maybe he was changing his mind.

“Hey,” Bucky said, rising so he could meet Steve halfway. “We don’t gotta tonight, if you don’t want to. I can – I can get by, for a while, now – ”

“Stop,” Steve told him, so Bucky stopped. Steve put his hands back on Bucky’s shoulders and leaned forward, hard, til Bucky sat back down. Steve had a hand wrapped around his elbow, so Bucky took his hand in his, and kissed his bony knuckles, and the meat under his thumb, and every side of his wrist, and every freckle on his arm, until Steve let out a shaky sigh and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Steve nodded. “Scoot up.”

Bucky moved back until his back hit the back of the couch, and then Steve climbed on, too, sat himself on Bucky’s lap close enough to feel the heat of him on his skin. Bucky had to kiss him for real, then. Couldn’t not. He tugged Steve close in by his hips and kissed him stupid and heaving and so hot. Steve was hot and damp everywhere, and their skin stuck when they pulled apart. 

“Go on,” Steve panted, with his face tucked into Bucky’s neck. “Ain’t you gonna?” He pressed his forearm to Bucky’s shoulder, his hand up by Bucky’s cheek. 

“Baby.” Bucky kissed him again, hot, and then kissed his cheek, and Steve held his arm so carefully where it was when Bucky took his wrist in his hand. Only startled a little. “Been waiting all night.”

“Shouldn’t go out dancing,” Steve said. “Wouldn’t have to wait.”

Steve wasn’t really jealous. He ain’t got reason to be. And besides, Bucky had his reasons to go out.

“But then where’d you be, huh?” He asked, and he nosed along Steve’s wrist, gave it another kiss. “You think you’d just give it up to me if I just came back after work, sweatin’ and gruntin’ like a pig? You think it ain’t drivin’ me crazy, knowing your blood’s boiling when I’m out late, knowing you’re still gonna be waitin’ up for me when I get back?”

“Next time I won’t be,” Steve threatened, breathy, unconvincing. Bucky made his way to Steve’s inner elbow, where the skin was soft and pale and smooth and Steve’s blood was thrumming under the surface, so close it drove Bucky mad. “Next time I’ll be – oh – halfway across Brooklyn.”

Bucky sucked on a spot on his arm just enough so it popped when he let up. The color rushed to it fast. “You know I’m good,” he said. “You know I ain’t asking anyone else.”

Steve snorted, softly, and wiggled against him. 

“Okay, baby,” Bucky said, and then he set his teeth – his real teeth – and bit down. 

Steve jerked against him, when he broke skin, at the suddenness and the always-brand-new sensation, and then he may have done something else, but it got lost in the rush in Bucky’s head. His eyes closed. There was only hot and Steve and the salty taste in his mouth and Steve on him and in him and around him. Jesus, Steve tasted so good. He tasted like salt and sweat and like sex. So he wouldn’t let Bucky give it to him later – so what, when the rush of his blood made Bucky feel high like sex didn’t.

“Not a lot,” he heard Steve say, or at least he thought he did, and his body knew what he was doing before his brain did, because he let go and he was gasping for breath into Steve’s arm before he could think again. Bucky rubbed his mouth and his chin on the patch of skin he’d been working on and felt Steve gasp against his throat. 

“‘S okay,” Bucky said before he even opened his eyes all the way. God. It made him so dopey, like whiskey never did. He pulled away just a little – Steve’s arm was all smudged bright red, and Steve trembled, tense, against his chest. 

Steve was so little. He didn’t need to be giving Bucky so much of himself. Bucky leaned in again, making Steve gasp, and he didn’t pull back until he was all clean but for the two bright red pinpricks. They would heal in a day or two.

“You’re,” Steve said, and shifted his hips. Somewhere between this and that Bucky had gone rock hard, and he looked up at Steve when he could tell Steve was, too. 

“You okay?” Bucky asked, and licked his lips. He still tasted like Steve. He turned his head to rub his mouth on his own shoulder and it came away smeared red.

Steve shifted his hips again, still staring at Bucky’s red mouth, like he didn’t know what he was doing. He blinked slowly.

“Baby,” Bucky prompted. “You still in there?”

Steve nodded in a way that made him look like he wasn’t, all droopy-eyed and drowsy and practically melting on Bucky’s lap. “Only a little.”

“Only a little,” Bucky repeated. He hadn’t taken much. He hadn’t, he could tell, he could’ve taken more if Stevie had just let him, if it would be okay for him. But it wasn’t usually, on a normal day, and it wasn’t ever when it was so hot. So he dragged his hand up Steve’s back and said, “Should get you a drink, sweetheart. You want a beer, some water?”

Steve’s head was resting on Bucky’s shoulder again, pressed up against his collarbone, and he only nodded. So Bucky stood up with him, so, so carefully, with his arm under Steve’s backside and Steve’s arms finding his shoulders for balance, took him into the bedroom and laid him out. It was even hotter and sticky-sweet in the back room, but the bed was better than the couch. This was how it went: Steve gave him everything – or as much as he could – and Bucky tried to give back, every time, because he loved Steve, but also because he was selfish and wanted Steve around for as long as possible and forever. 

“Nuh-uh,” Steve said, like he could tell what Bucky was thinking. He’d been leaning over Steve for too long, just watching him breathe and listening for the beat of his heart. “Water.”

“Water,” Bucky said. “Yeah, Stevie, I’ll get it for you.”

He kissed Steve, right on his pretty mouth, and Steve’s hands pawed at his shoulders. 

“Love you,” Bucky said, when he pulled back, and he darted back in to lick up the smear of blood on the corner of Steve’s mouth. 

Steve smiled, satisfied with himself, even with his eyes closed. “Water,” he said again, and Bucky went.


End file.
